Lethe
by elan0rjoy
Summary: Will gets hit over the head during a minor altercation and doesn't remember anything, his name, his curse, or his friends. How will Tessa deal with the handsome, childlike boy left in his place? Set between Clockwork Angel and Clockwork Prince. Total drabble and totally a one-shot that just sort of happened to me today and wouldn't go away.


_Lethe: [lee-thee] Classical__ Mythology. __a river in Hades whose water caused forgetfulness of the past in those who drank of it._

* * *

He'd been hit in the head during an altercation with a minor demon during rounds. Jem had been able to get them back to the Institute, but he'd been badly injured during the fight and needed medical attention first, which left Tessa in charge of Will while the Silent Brothers, Charlotte, and Sophie tended to his _parabatai. _Now, they were in the parlor and Tessa was laughing as she explained to Will that he'd once called the landscape hanging on the wall an over-enthusiastic artist's attempt at grandeur.

"That sounds like a very rude thing to say. Am I usually very rude?" he asked, his bright blue eyes alight with a strange curiosity. Tessa didn't know how to respond. Normally, she wouldn't have taken issue with telling Will that he was generally quite rude, but _this_...The blow to the head had made him forget whatever madness it was that made him inherently _Will_ and she didn't know how to explain that to the boy who stared at her in horror now.

"You say what you think, Will," she started and he cocked his head to the side.

"That means yes, doesn't it?" he interrupted. "Oh, yes, it does. Oh no. I can see it on your face. I'm terribly rude, aren't I?" Before she could reply, he barrelled on. "But surely I'm not rude to you though, am I, Tess? I can't imagine why anyone would be rude to you. Surely, I must love you and we must be great friends."

"No, you don't really care much for me at all." She spoke without thinking and then grimaced, for even though her voice had been soft and sad, he'd heard her. His face contorted into a pained expression and he immediately crossed the room and reached for her hands.

"That can't possibly be, Tess. You're so kind and good and funny and beautiful. It just can't be." To her horror, tears had filled his eyes and he was pressing her hand to his heart as if to staunch a flood of pain. "It _is_ true. I'm so sorry, Tess. I know I'm not myself right now, but I feel so _horrible_ at the thought of hurting you. It's like I've been run through with a knife. And that can't just be me now. It has to stem from _something_ that's the real me. Are you quite sure, Tess?"

Her mouth had dropped open somewhere after he'd pressed her hand to his heart and, upon realizing it was still hanging open, she snapped it shut with an audible click. A single tear had escaped his eyes and stood, sparkling, on his flushed cheek. Without realizing what she was doing, she'd reached up and brushed it away, her fingers lingering against his cheek. He was watching her with those wide eyes and they were pleading with her to tell him he was wrong. But she couldn't. She just stared back at him, speechless.

Her lack of reaction brought him out of his impassioned state and he came to himself with start, pulling away from her until there was a proper amount of distance between them, his eyes sad. "I shouldn't have been so forward, Tessa. Forgive me, please. I can see that I have upset you."

"Will," her voice came out in a squeak, and she tried again, "Will, you've not upset me. There was a point, once, where we were friends, and in a way we still are."

His eyes brightened, "Oh?"

"Oh yes," she half-lied. "You bring me books you think I'll like and-and we argue about poetry like friends might and you laugh at my jokes...You are always a perfectly behaved gentleman towards me."

"But you said that I don't care for you. I don't understand how that can be." His voice was so sad, so befuddled, that she felt her heart go out to him, in spite of herself.

"We had a-a misunderstanding," she said softly and her own sadness from the night on the roof rose in her chest, unbidden. "Things haven't been the same since."

His whole face was a study in contrition and she felt terrible for telling him any of this. He reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek. To her horror, she realized that she was crying and shrunk away from him. He frowned and dropped his hand.

"I don't know what to do," he finally said, looking at her like she has all the answers.

"Neither do I," she whispered.

He looked like he was about to reach out to her again, and her heart constricted in her chest. She didn't know how to handle this impossibly sweet Will and his childlike adoration. She was saved from having to deal with it by a knock on the door. It was Sophie, announcing that the Silent Brothers have finished tending to Jem and could look at Will.

"Come along, Master Will. We'll get you fixed up in no time," even Sophie was affected by this new Will and treated him differently. It was almost as if she were talking to a child, and he responded in a childlike manner.

"But, if they fix me, then I will go back to being rude, won't I? I don't want to be mean again."

She and Sophie shared a look, both at a loss for what to say. It was finally Sophie who spoke, "Master Will, what is the name of the blade you are carrying?"

His brow furrowed and he pulled out the dagger, giving it, then Sophie, an incredulous look. "It's just a knife, Sophie. It doesn't _have _a name."

"Master Will, what would you do if a vampire attacked me, or Miss Tessa?"

He was baffled. "Why, Sophie, what an odd thing to say."

She smiled at him, kind and gentle. "Master Will, you used to know what your blade's name was, and the old you would have known a hundred ways to kill a vampire with an umbrella. We need that Master Will back. The _world_ needs that Master Will back."

He contemplated this and leveled a long look at Tessa. When she nodded encouragingly and managed a smile, he rushed off to Sophie's side. After they left and the door closed behind them, she sank down onto the divan and buried her face in her hands.

Later, after the Silent Brothers have treated him and he has gained his memories and old personality back, he tells her that he doesn't remember what happened. She tells him he acted like a seven year old and threw tantrums for most of the time, which seems to please him. Neither of them let on that they know the other one is lying, both assuming that it is probably for the better.


End file.
